The Date
by Tiw-K
Summary: AU, Syhindlar Prompt 7: Mohinder tries monkey brains. Go wild with it.
1. Chapter 1

This story was prompted by theJollity from the 9thWonders forums in the Syhindlar thread.

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The aged wooden floor creaked, echoing down the dusty hall and making the agent wince. Mohinder was greatly unnerved by the silence of this run down apartment. The stillness made his movements that much louder, not ideal at all for hunting wanted criminals. Mohinder expected that even his heavy heartbeat could be heard, bouncing off peeling painted walls; it thudded so loudly against his ear drums.

Gun out and steady, Mohinder crept further along knowing this was not the time to back out; he was already committed to the task. A crumpled note in his hand detailed the address of his prey, but Mohinder's eyes rested upon the glinting red door knob that undoubtedly marked the door of his prey better than the fading numbers.

He inhaled, steeling his nerves while wrapping his hand carefully over the rusting knob. Mohinder's resolve faltered a bit, not used to this kind of hunt and chase game, but former agent Audrey Hanson's words rang out in his mind.

_'Sylar is not the normal kind of serial killer. He kills without mercy and in ways that are a violation to mankind. If you catch him in your sights at all, don't hesitate to shoot. Regardless of the rules, that man deserves no fair trial. If you don't shoot him Suresh, you will die.'_

She had rounded on him after the meeting of her dismissal. The slew of words from her mouth were of frantic tales of the supernatural as she pleaded with him to understand. Mohinder had listened, at first detached and only humoring her, but the look in her eyes was desperate. They drew him in and made him glance more carefully at the mysterious killer, Sylar's file. An hour of reading left him heeding Audrey's words, Sylar had do die no matter what.

Now, with his head resting against the wooden door, Mohinder prepared himself to face the real nightmare. Prepared to make his first kill ever and a chill went down his spine at the dark thoughts. Sylar was not human; he played life like he was a God and manipulated other people's lives. Already three people had left the force after playing Sylar's game; one in a mental hospital, one in a grave, and the last, Audrey Hanson, luckily got off with only losing her job.

Anger welled in Mohinder's chest as he remembered, building to a furious crescendo until it pulsed in his ears. The handle gave way easily in his grip, pushing the wood back and entering the musky darkness within, ignoring the red wetness on his hand. The shadows were all encompassing, taking a while for Mohinder to adjust from the orange glow of the lights in the hallway. His gun was pointed blindly out and Mohinder listened through his harsh breathing, seeking his prey out.

The silence, the lack of movement coming to attack him, put Mohinder on edge. His eyes adjusted slowly, taking in the old, run down furniture and lack of life. His gun roved from side to side as doubt started coursing through his mind, maybe this wasn't the right place at all. No one came out to greet him, like Mohinder had expected after reading Audrey's reports about Sylar's nature, and that unsettled Mohinder even more.

The scraping to his left made Mohinder jump and whirl around finger itching to pull the trigger of his gun. A tall, shadowy figure was leaning against a doorframe leading to a room Mohinder hadn't noticed before. In the person's hand was a towel once white and pristine, but now smeared with dark red that made bile rise in Mohinder's throat.

"Raise your hands above your head," Mohinder growled out angrily, to hide the fear the slithered down his spine. "I'll shoot if you don't comply."

The figure's head tilted slightly, Mohinder still couldn't make out his features but he could feel the amusement rolling from the figure.

"Raise my hands?" Such a low, timber voice that made Mohinder's arm shake slightly.

"Yes." Mohinder stated swallowing.

The towel dropped lightly to the floor and the figure's arms rose above the waist, but stopped at the shoulder. Mohinder was going to call out the order to raise them fully but the figure flicked his right wrist, sending the gun clattering against the wall while his left hand pushed out and Mohinder found himself crashing back into the wall, unable to move and barely able to breathe.

"You just hang there for a moment. I'll be right back." The amusement in that voice sent shivers down Mohinder's spine, but his attempts at struggling (at screaming) were stopped by an invisible hand against his throat; crushing out all the extra air.

His vision fading, Mohinder sent out silent prayers of forgiveness as the shadows overtook him. Fear of death drifted off as he drifted out of consciousness. A gasp of pain slipped past his lips as a cold hand grasped his face harshly, bringing his eyes to meet the dark brown eyes of death.

"So they're sending newbie's after me now?" Sylar mused, hand stroking down Mohinder's cheek making him cringe away.

"I'm not a newb--" He rasped, getting interrupted.

"I have to disagree. The experienced ones shoot before speaking. It was painfully obvious you weren't cut out for this job the moment you walked up those stares." Sylar leaned in, his warm breath ghosting across Mohinder's lips. "You're heart beat in fear, not the thrill of the hunt."

Sylar pulled back, making Mohinder sigh in relief before yelping as the force holding him up vanished and sent him crumpling onto the floor. The splintered wood from his impact against the wall jabbed into his back as he slid across his surface, eyes watching Sylar's steps move away toward the discarded towel.

It leapt up into his hand, as with the gun, and Mohinder watched wearily from his spot on the floor as Sylar examined the gun over; seemingly cleaning it with the towel.

"Are you going to kill me now?" Mohinder asked into the silence, swallowing the bile in his throat; fear thudding in his ears. He was at this man's mercy.

Sylar tilted his head, a brow rising elegantly while an amused smile spread across that face. "Do you want me to?"

Mohinder shook his head, not trusting himself to speak and shrinking away from glowing, amused eyes.

"What are you going to do with me?" Mohinder's gaze trailed to the gun longingly resting in pale fingers.

"I don't know. What do you want me to do?" Sylar responded, shrugging and pocketing the gun to Mohinder's dismay.

"Go to jail. Pay for the crimes you've done." Mohinder ground up, slowing pushing himself up against the wall; not liking how he has to still continue looking upwards to meet the monster's eyes.

Sylar laughed, making Mohinder jump for it was such a sweet, innocent sounding laugh; full of amusement, not sadistic glee.

"Ah. I can see why they sent you." Sylar smirked, slinging the towel over his shoulder once more. "Very much like how she was. How is Audrey now?"

Mohinder bristled, the anger drawing back in and replacing his fear but Sylar's cruel smile kept him silent, kept him still.

"That's cute." The killer stated, moving forward and making Mohinder tense up.

He seemed to ponder something; those eyes looking into, through, Mohinder and making him want to squirm. Mohinder resisted, staying tense and mind scrambling for a plan, anything that'll get him out of this alive.

"Maybe…Yes." Sylar murmured, handing moving up to his chin in a thoughtful posture, completely relaxed.

Mohinder was trying to figure out how to get the gun out of that pocket and into his hand, but it was difficult to concentrate on thinking when those eyes digging into his soul.

"How about this," Sylar started, dropping his hand and making Mohinder jump a bit. "You have dinner with me and if you can handle it. I'll go with you."

"Wait…What?" The Indian's mind short-circuited, unable to comprehend the bizarre request.

"Dinner, with me," Sylar grinned, looking all too gleeful for Mohinder's liking.

"Dinner?"

"Yes."

"Like a…Like…" He couldn't say it; the word 'date' made his insides squirm.

"Exactly," Another grin, its knowing nature making Mohinder cringe.

"You'll…give yourself over to the police if I have dinner with you?"

"I'll go with you."

"But…That…This," Mohinder sputtered, leaning back into the wall in bewilderment.

This wasn't right, this wasn't normal at all and his mind brought up Audrey's warnings, looking for an answer. She hadn't told him about this, had only said Sylar killed on whim. This little game was suspicious and the chills going down his spine from that gaze scared Mohinder even more than when his gun was in those hands.

"It's not a joke." Sylar answered before Mohinder could even voice the words. "I'm completely serious. I have no intention of…playing with you, Mohinder."

Warning bells went off in Mohinder's head, something was off about that remark. He couldn't grasp it, but there was something there he should note but the killer had turned and made his way to the doorway before Mohinder could think to long.

"I'll be here tomorrow night at seven. You better be here." He threw over his shoulder in dismissal before vanishing out into the hall.

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	2. Chapter 2

Part 2

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Mohinder strode back and forth across the shirt littered floor in tight black slacks. He flitted nervously through colored patterned shirts piled, rumpled, on his bed. Mohinder held each shirt before his chest in the mirror, inspecting each color before tossing them down in rejection; a grey shirt, a red, one that was orange and pink, one with blue stripes, another one purple, one with black checkered squares, and another with flower print, all didn't get his approval. 

He didn't know why he was dressing so nicely for this 'event', and Mohinder tried convincing himself that he just didn't want to screw up; but his innermost thoughts were of glee for this opportunity, enjoying every second of it. The life of an agent wasn't full of glamour and fun, it was usually late nights of endless paperwork, microwave dinners, and general loneliness.

Sighing at the assortment of shirts left to be judged, Mohinder decided to just pick a color instead of searching through every shirt on his floor. A navy blue might look nice, but in certain lighting it'd be too dark and the same would go for a darker red. Mohinder was positive that a bright orange wouldn't go well in a fancy restaurant, if that was where Sylar would be taking him, and any lighter color would probably look too informal as well.

Maybe white might work; it always looked good in fluorescent or a candle's glow. It could be worn at formal or informal events because the color was quite plain and Mohinder had to admit that he liked the effect it had on his skin, giving his tan a more golden glow.

Mohinder glanced at the clock as he moved to the white pile, trying not to think about who he was meeting in only an hour and a half. He had barely gotten any sleep that night, Sylar's dark eyes and murderous smile had kept popping into his dreams and waking him up.

He had been having doubts all day wondering if he should go through with this 'date' but when the opportunity presented itself to tell all at work to his boss, Mohinder found he couldn't bring himself to say anything.

There was some part of him that wanted to do this all on his own, capture the elusive killer on his own terms but as the seconds counted down to seven o'clock, Mohinder found the urge to call Audrey, or any back up at all, grow stronger and stronger.

Resisting, he pushed back his fears pulled a decent, unwrinkled, white shirt over his shoulders before surveying himself in the mirror. This could work; it was plain but also very becoming. It took him two times to get the buttons; his fingers slick with sweat from nerves had somehow missed a hole leaving him with an extra and having to go over it again.

Smiling faintly and running a hand through his bouncy curls, Mohinder turned from the mirror to start tossing his shirts back into a drawer. The lack of weight at his hip made Mohinder frown deeply, reminded again of the vulnerable position he was putting himself in.

The gun had been ineffective with Sylar, Mohinder had failed to listen to Audrey's warnings of killing the man first and now he had to play the champion hunter's game. The warning had been clear in Sylar voice on what would happen if he didn't arrive at seven o'clock. Mohinder would be hunted down and killed, but by cooperating he would at least have a chance of survival, of winning.

He was kind as to how this 'date' would go. What was Sylar planning and how could Mohinder use that to his advantage. He wondered if Sylar would be cruel and threatening like the other night or if he'd show a more human side (if such a thing even existed in the man).

None of the files said anything about Sylar's personality and Mohinder hadn't really questioned Audrey much on her relationship with the man; she was always bitter and hateful when talking about him.

Steeling his resolve, Mohinder forced away the jitters of fear and nervousness and pulled his tan jacket on. He had forty five minutes to get across town and Mohinder didn't feel much like being late; unsure of how Sylar would react to such a thing.

The sky was darkening by the time Mohinder made it to the worn down apartment complex a couple minutes before seven. The building looked as unwelcoming as it did the previous night and he had to swallow his fear again as chills began running down his spine. Locking the doors, Mohinder walked across the broken sidewalk to the falling-off-its-hinges door.

He made it only a few steps from the door when a hand landed hard on his shoulder, whirling him around to face Sylar's tall smirking form.

"Almost late," He remarked, almost growling and Mohinder tensed under the hold not liking their closeness. "Was starting to think you weren't going to show."

Clenching his jaw, Mohinder opened his mouth to respond but Sylar interrupted.

"Nice car." The hand on his shoulder moved around his neck, nails digging into the skin as Sylar all but shoved Mohinder into motion, walking away from the car and down the street.

"I hope it doesn't get vandalized while we're gone."

Mohinder glanced at his captor, puzzling over the pensive comment. Sylar was staring at him, those dark eyes cutting into his soul and making Mohinder want to cringe away from their intensity. It was so odd, so drowning and there was a constriction in his chest, making it hard to breathe until that gaze turned away.

Sylar's hand dropped its hold on him, swinging into the pockets of his black coat smoothly. Mohinder had the urge to rub at his neck, maybe run away the sweat left there that sent goose bumps rising from the night's chill, but he didn't want to attract those eyes that were gazing up ahead back onto him.

After a while of walking, getting farther and farther into a part of the city Mohinder had never been before, he felt the need to say something to fill the silence between them.

"Where are we go–"

"It's not far."

Mohinder bit his tongue, wanting to say 'that's not the point' but he kept silent. Sylar stirred him left around a corner and bright lights could be seen up ahead where a busier street must be located.

The new light gave Mohinder a better look over of Sylar's attire from the quick glances he sent the serial killer's way. He was dressed, predictably, in all black with black jeans, a black shirt, and his jacket; all of which looked good on him, and Mohinder had to admit.

They entered the light to view a street full various restaurants and stores that looked quite expensive. There were dozens of innocent bystanders around and Mohinder tensed up, worrying for their lives but also wondering how Sylar picked his victims. Did he do what he was doing now with Mohinder; charm them onto dates and kill them when their defenses were down? The cold fear rushed forward again and Sylar's head snapped his direction, as if he could sense the fear.

"You…" He paused, as if thinking better of it. "You look nice."

Mohinder blinked, taken aback at the remark and was going to ask what Sylar was going to say first but was interrupted again.

"I hope your shirt doesn't get stained."

"What?" Mohinder's mouth went dry, his mind jumping to morbid conclusions.

"You wore white." Sylar shrugged, as if that explained it all. "People always spill on white clothes."

Lighthearted, normal; something that didn't fit Mohinder's impression of what Sylar was and so he was left with a blank mind, unable to respond. He also felt uneasy, there was something in those eyes, in that smile that faintly flitted across that mouth as he spoke that had Mohinder's hair rising.

"Here we are." Sylar stated, catching Mohinder's shoulder as they came before a restaurant with a strange name Mohinder couldn't pronounce.

"This is where we're having dinner?" He asked, unbelieving and untrusting.

Sylar smiled, his grin like one of a shark, and he held the metal door open. Mohinder walked hesitantly in, glancing around the decorative restaurant. It looked Asian and completely normal with a decent supper crowd, letting his nerves calm down until a stout Asian man ran forward.

"Mista Sylar! Good see you." He greeted, accent thick, and pulled Sylar's hand into a firm shake.

"Is it prepared?" Sylar asked stiffly, obviously not liking the physical contact and it was proven when his hand was released; he wiped it off on his jeans.

"Yes, yes. This way," He gestured them to follow him before leading them to the back of the crowded restaurant and into a back room.

They were led into a private booth with a strange table containing some sort of hole and brace in the middle. Mohinder sat down into the low seats, sending a confused glance to Sylar who seated himself calmly, looking almost like a content cat.

"Be a minute." The man stated before vanishing out the door, leaving Mohinder alone with the serial killer. "Food comes soon."

Mohinder sat restlessly, shifting in his seat and wanting to ask what was going on but also not wanting to know the answer. This was really bizarre, they hadn't even looked at menus and the waiter said their food was coming.

"What's going on?" He finally asked, unable to stand the silence anymore.

"We're waiting for food." Sylar responded, shrugging his shoulder and leaning back on the seat lazily; closing his eyes for a moment in feigned sleep.

Mohinder sighed, somehow knowing he wouldn't get a straight answer if he tried asking more. He leaned his elbows on the table and rested his chin in his hands, glancing between Sylar and the decorative Chinese symbol painting that hung on the wall.

The waiter had lied for they sat in silence for fifteen minutes, not 'soon' at all, and eventually Mohinder just watched Sylar eyes his eyelids fluttered and mouth twitched. He would have believed the other man really had fallen asleep except his eyes cracked open every time Mohinder shifted in his seat, about to shake the killer's shoulder. His movement always froze when those eyes opened and he only started breathing again once they drifted back closed.

A feral screech had them both jumping, Mohinder's wide eyes staring at the door as it was pushed open by two men in chef aprons. They carried a struggling, furry creature which was quickly pinned and fastened to the hole in the table. One chef waved the other one off, murmuring something in Chinese before setting supplies down onto the table.

Mohinder glanced at Sylar who sat perfectly calm, smiling at Mohinder's stare and motioning him to watch the proceedings. The chef pulled out a razor blade and started shaving the monkey's head, Mohinder watched the following proceedings in awe; his mind a whirl of curious though while his stomach flip-flopped as the skull was cut open and its brain scooped into two bowls.

The Chef cleared the monkey's dead body away and was gone in no time, leaving the warm sloppy mess for Sylar and Mohinder to eat.

"Dig in." Sylar directed, not moving at all and instead waiting for Mohinder to try it first.

Mohinder stared down at the goop feeling sick to his stomach, but trying not to show it on his face. Sylar wanted him to get sick, to turn it away and then be free of the deal. Mohinder didn't want that to happen at all, he wanted to win and put this serial killer behind bars.

Monkey brains--not something Mohinder ever imagined himself eating but he had had worser food before; like his father's cooking when mother was sick. With that thought in mind, he picked up the spoon and slopped some of the brain onto it with a 'squelching' sound.

Sylar leaned forward, eyes intent on the agent's face as Mohinder swallowed around the cold metal. The warmth of the brains almost made Mohinder gag, but the taste wasn't all that bad. It melted in his mouth, tasting kind of like tofu or fish; something not very strong, bland instead.

He swallowed, tilting his head sideways and swirling his tongue around in his mouth to make sure he hadn't missed anything at all. The clank of another spoon, Sylar's spoon, made him turn his head and watch the other man swallow brain down himself. Sylar polished off the meal more quickly than Mohinder, not glancing at the agent at all.

"You should finish it quickly." He stated when he was done, wiping his mouth with a napkin.

Mohinder followed the command, finding the brain started to taste different as it cooled. He spilt some brain on his shirt, as Sylar predicted, because it didn't stay aloft on the spoon well enough and the serial killer surprised him by wiping it off himself, prompting Mohinder to finish eating.

"So, what did you think of monkey brains?" The question came softly as Mohinder downed the last spoonful, dropping it into the bowl with a 'cling'.

Mohinder thought over the answer; he didn't exactly love the brains but he didn't find them that bad. "That…was different?"

"Different? Not gross? You don't feel sick or anything?"

Mohinder leaned away from the other; Sylar was getting entirely too close for comfort, incredibly eager for a reply.

"I…I'm not sick. But that wasn't exactly the greatest meal I've ever had."

Sylar smiled, looking smug and then he pulled back from Mohinder, giving him space, and gestured for the waiter to return.

"I'll pay the bill now."

The man nodded, pulling out a slip of paper already prepared. Mohinder was curious to see what the bill was but Sylar held it out of sight and paid the man a huge wad of bills. The man grinned, bowed, and vanished, leaving them alone once more.

Sylar stood and stretched, groaning softly in his throat as his spine cracked loudly. "That was good."

"Are we done?"

The killer's head tilted sending a questioning glance before shrugging. "I guess."

Mohinder stood as well, resisting the urge to stretch as well. Sylar waited for him to pass by, but Mohinder wasn't comfortable with that. He didn't want the murderer to run off while his back was turned.

They faced off against each other silently, Mohinder tensed because this was the moment where their 'deal' was made well and Sylar stood silently amused, his eyes alight with untold secrets.

"Let's step outside." Sylar suggested just as Mohinder opened his mouth to speak.

Mohinder bristled slightly, wondering how the other man always did that. How he always seemed to know when he was going to speak and exactly what he was going to say. It was very irksome and unsettling.

"After you," He motioned Sylar to move ahead and he did so with no protest at all.

They pushed through the heavy metal door and out into the open air, Mohinder was momentarily blinded by the lights but Sylar didn't seem to have any problems. He kept walking back the way they had come, his long strides forcing Mohinder to speed walk to catch up as the killer rounded the corner.

Mohinder lost his breath as he was pressed into the cold brick wall, Sylar's form overbearing on his and making Mohinder fear for his life again. He was going to die, the murderer was going to cut open his brain like that monkey, and so many other people, and probably eat it. His breath was coming out heavy and loud, almost making Mohinder miss Sylar's breathy words against his neck.

"You're perfect." Hot warm breath ghosted over the building sweat behind Mohinder's ear and made him shiver.

"Wha-What?" Mohinder gasped before starting to struggle. "Hey! Let me go Sylar."

A rumbling chuckle escaped those lips; Sylar pulled his head back so he could meet his captive's eyes. "I don't want to."

"Thi—This wasn't part of the deal!" Mohinder hissed, baring his teeth and trying to hide how flustered he was. "You're supposed to turn yourself into the police."

"I never agreed to do that." Sylar smiled a catlike smile, devilishly content.

"What? Yes you did!" Mohinder sputtered, his struggles halting as confusion sunk in.

"I agreed to go with you." He stated, waiting for a little realization to cloud across that face before continuing. "I never said anything about the police."

"But I'm the police. I work for them. I'll take you to the station."

Sylar shook his head; lips moving closer and making Mohinder lean quickly back, his head banging on the wall. "What happens when you leave the station? I'll have to go with you too. Or you'll have to join me in jail. But I don't plan on staying there."

"That…You…Can't…Not!" Mohinder couldn't speak; he was so furious and confused.

Warm lips descended on his, silencing anymore words and thoughts Mohinder had. He stood panting and dazed, staring in shock at the killer who licked his lips in glee.

"Mmm. You taste good." Sylar purred, pulling Mohinder off the wall and dragging him down the street with his arm around the stunned man's waist. "I think I'm going to keep you."

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A/N: I have never tried monkey brains before. I used other people's stories found randomly over the internets...and combined them all. Maybe I'll try monkey brains in the future. (But prob. won't) 


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